When I leave, it will be darker
by Beth Winter
Summary: Phantom of the Opera: Christine gets lost. Dracula goes out hunting.


Dedicated to: Rackhamrose 

WHEN I LEAVE, IT WILL BE DARKER

by Beth Winter (bwinter at extenuation dot net)

o

Christine was lost among whirling red and green and gold. The people and tents of the Gypsy circus blurred into bright apparitions that closed in around her, cutting her off from the other chorus girls. She was sure her friends were in front of her, but a trio of acrobats rolled out their mats in the middle of the passageway, blocking her path.

She turned to the left. If she went around this one tent, she could pass the obstacle and rejoin the group from the Opera. But a juggler was there, and another. Then a fortuneteller grabbed her arm, and Christine had to twist away. Three turns later she realized she had no idea where the other girls were.

She saw another wrinkled hag heading towards her with a pack of cards. She ran.

She got to the corner before she tripped over a tent peg. She had time to yelp in fright before someone caught her.

A man's arms lifted her effortlessly.

"You should watch your step, Madame. Are you all right?"

Her saviour set her down carefully. Christine found herself gaping slightly. This was the first time anyone had called her "Madame".

The stranger smiled. He had a refined, aristocratic face. His long dark hair was clasped back, and his clothes were as elegant as if he had stopped by the traveling circus on his way to the opera. Christine found her fingers clutching the folds of his cloak.

"I'm fine," she said breathlessly. "But I lost my friends - have you seen them? There's about fifteen of them, a bit older than me, I'm the youngest chorus girl at the opera..."

"I'm sure I'd notice girls as charming as you." He had a foreign accent, not quite Italian and not quite Russian. "I'll help you find them. It's dangerous to wander alone in the dark."

"I'm not scared of the night," Christine protested; she was not a child after all. "Maybe of the Gypsies, a little," she admitted. "I'm Christine Daaé."

"My name is Vladislaus-" He paused as an old Gypsy cursed loudly at the two of them. "Come, it's not safe here. We're in their way."

Christine found the circus much less frightening and more amusing in company. Vladislaus kept a hand around her shoulder as he steered her through the crowds, and whenever a sideshow scared her, she could hide her face in his cloak. He told her about his trip from Romania and how much he was enjoying Paris. She told him about her life in the chorus, her best friend Meg, and their joint birthday - Meg's sixteenth and her fifteenth - a few weeks before.

She almost forgot about looking for the other chorus girls, though Vladislaus asked around for them every so often, in the strange Gypsy language. It seemed that they were always a step behind her friends, but they didn't hurry. She was having more fun anyway.

"What do you like best of everything, in your life?" she asked Vladislaus as they emerged from another sideshow tent.

He smiled in the dark. "Horses. Riding a horse through the mountains... it feels like flying. And you?"

"The Angel of Music," she said immediately. "He sings in my head, and he teaches me to sing."

"I thought you were in the corps de ballet?"

"I like all music." Christine smiled, thinking of her Angel. "It lifts me up. My father's in heaven, but he sent me my Angel, and when I sing, I'm close to heaven, too."

Vladislaus lowered his head. He seemed sad and angry at the same time, though he was smiling at her.

Then the Gypsies around them started to move in rhythm. Someone started to shake a tambourine, another beat on a drum, a boy reached for a fiddle. An old woman with a parrot on her arm was the first one to sing. One by one, the crowd picked up the melody, the words. They sang and they danced. There was a pattern that suggested words, but there were also ecstatic cries and whistles, almost random.

Christine sang too, wordlessly, captured by the moment and the melody. So sad and wild, with strange pride and recklessness, someone singing in the cold and reveling in tragedy, she thought.

She could read all of it in Vladislaus's eyes.

When the crowd got too wild and the music degenerated into cacophony, he pulled her into safety behind a tent, shielding her.

"What was it?" she asked breathlessly, resting in his arms. "What was I singing?"

His cloak enveloped her, its darkness a barrier between her and the world. His voice was rougher that before as he translated. "_When I dance, the sky dances with me. When I whistle, the wind whistles in the fields. When I fall silent, the wind is gone. When I go blind, there are no stars._ Christine..."

A shiver ran through her at the hunger in his voice. She drew away, suddenly fearful, but he moved before she could turn and run.

His fingers were cold on her face.

"Abashed the devil stood, and saw how awful goodness is." His voice was low, the accent heavy. "And saw virtue in her shape how lovely, saw and pined his loss..."

She heard familiar voices behind her. Her friends were there, in the next alley, laughing at the dancing Gypsies. When she turned back, Vladislaus was gone.

The next morning, she heard about the baker's daughter, who was found in a ditch near the circus grounds with her throat torn out. She spared a thought of pity for the girl, not lucky enough in the dark to find a companion like Vladislaus.

FINIS

Because this sun shines only for me  
Because I'm dreaming this world for myself  
When I leave, it will be darker  
I'll take the whole world away from you

_We Tzigane_, traditional (translation by Marie Walichenko)

Notes:  
In the Van Helsing continuity, Dracula is Vladislaus Valerious, and later the nineteenth-century head of the Valerious clan is presented as a "prince of the Gypsies", once again confusing the Roma (Gypsies, Tzigane) with the denizens of Romania. Draqi's also Yes, I know that the proper name for the Gypsies is Roma. But this is Christine's POV, and she doesn't.  
I also assumed that since the Phantom was active in the Opera Populaire for three years before the musical, he was teaching Christine during this time as well.

Roughly 1000 words, written in two hours, during two different lectures, while I also took notes for said lectures. Go me.


End file.
